Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
aubade august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boxing day
boy boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child child abuse
childhood children
chocolate christian
christmas cinco de mayo
cinderella city
class clothes
color columbus day
community computer
confidence conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad daffodils
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
drug earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
endurance engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion fate
father father daughter
father son fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
football for children
for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom french
friend friendship
fruit fun
funeral funny
funny love future
games garden
gender giggle
girl girlfriend
giving god
golf good friday
good morning good night
goodbye gospel
gothic graduate
graduation grandchild
granddaughter grandfather
grandmother grandparents
grandson grave
green grief
growing up growth
guitar hair
halloween happiness
happy happy birthday
hate health
heart heartbreak
heartbroken heaven
hello hero
high school hilarious
hindi hip hop
history hockey
holiday holocaust
home homework
hope horror
horse house
how i feel howl
humanity humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i am i love you
i miss you identity
image imagery
imagination immigration
independence day innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational integrity
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
july june
kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
longing loss
lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mental illness mentor
metaphor metrical tale
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day motivation
mountains moving on
mum murder
muse music
my child my children
mystery myth
mythology name
native american natural disasters
nature new year
new years day new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
perspective pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
prejudice preschool
presidents day pride
princess prison
proposal psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
surreal sweet
symbolism sympathy
tamil teacher
teachers day technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving thanksgiving day
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
universe uplifting
urban urdu
usa vacation
valentines day vanity
veterans day violence
visionary vogon
voice volleyball
voyage war
water weather
wedding wife
wind wine
winter wisdom
woman women
word play words
work world
world war i world war ii
write writing
yellow youth

Long Color Poems

Long Color Poems. Below are the most popular long Color by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Color poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Gregory R Barden | Details

Such Does Exist

I ran out of breath on the road to Mumbai,
Not for sake of dust or smog or even health.
I had rounded a curve on my motorcycle ...

And all at once could see in the same view,
The skyline of Mumbai, Matheran Mountain,
And a wide swath of the Arabian Sea, and

All was lit with a late-day sun that was as
Red as the poppies in Patel Nagar, painting
The whole scene with a bright sheen of

Exquisite hue ... there was a slight misty
Fog from the sea through the valley around
Matheran, that reached its fingers back

Towards Pune, and the glow of the sunset
Illuminated all of it perfectly, making the
Entire scene like a tapestry of scarlet lace

Threaded with gold! For a moment I
Thought I was dreaming and back at my
Hotel in Jaipur, for nothing REAL could be

So exquisitely beautiful ... then I recalled
Your lips and thought, "Yes - such a color IS
Possible!" I caught my breath ...

And moved on.

I had a dizzy spell on the side of Sugarloaf.
It was early morning at the mountain on a
Very stormy day, snow falling as heavily as

I'd ever seen, even for the Western Maine
Mountains, and a bit of wind, too, but not
Enough to shut down the gondolas. Not

Many people there that early on such a snowy
Day, so I had taken the ride to the top alone,
And about three-quarters of the way up the

Gondola came out of the clouds and above
The storm, and the sunshine warmed my core.
I was busy getting my skis on and poles in

Hand, (and the first part of the trail was north-
Ward), so it wasn't until I'd gone a ways thru
The amazing powder of the Snow Fields that

I noticed the panorama, and I had to stop to
Get my balance ... the peak of Sugarloaf and
The surrounding mountains were sticking up

Through the flat cloud layer like islands on a
Sea, and the sky was so blue above that the
Clouds had taken on a dark azure, the low

Sun shining through the lens of atmosphere
Adding a glow that was almost green, and
Altogether it made for a sight that I'll never

Come close to describing, in any way that gives
It proper scope or a hint of justice. I thought
To myself that I must still be asleep in my

Nana's house back in Kingfield, for nothing
REAL could be so sublimely gorgeous ... then
I recalled your eyes and thought, "Yes - such

Colors ARE possible!" I steadied for a minute ...

And then kept skiing.

I had a revelation one day in the South Pacific.
A friend and I were scuba diving off the coast
Of Vanuatu, just north of Port Vila and about

Two miles out in Mele Bay. We were looking
For a very rare "hairy" species of Nautilus
Called Allonautilus Scrobiculatus, that had

Been seen by a lone diver the previous day.
We'd been down pretty deep all morning,
Floating in twilight and getting a bit frustrated

Chasing look-alikes, when we decided to
Head to the surface and the boat for some
Lunch. My buddy had gone up right by the

Boat, but I was a bit further out, and as I
Surfaced I was watching what looked like
A Tiger Shark swimming away from me in

The opposite direction, making sure it had
No interest in me, and backed into a school
Of large jellies. If you've ever done so you

Can get confused very quickly as to what's
Up-or-down, but I'd risen enough to have
Strong mid-day sunlight, so I stopped

Surfacing and just enjoyed the sight ...
The pinks and oranges and pastels of
The jellies against the strong aqua back-

Ground of the water at around 40 feet, and
The bright sun rays piercing all with shafts
Of brighter blues and greens and white!

But when I looked down toward the deep
Water some of the jellies were glowing
Against the almost black-blue of the depths,

And the mix of it all was more breathtaking
Than I can put to words here. I had to adjust
My regulator and try not to get too excited,

But it was a once-in-a-lifetime sight, and I
Couldn't help my heart beating out of my
Chest! For a moment I thought I was

Asleep and dreaming back in my bungalow
In Matarisu, because nothing on Earth
Could be that stunning, but then I recalled

Your smile and thought, "Yes ... yes, such
Incredible beauty DOES exist!" I gathered
My wits together ...

And surfaced slowly for lunch.

You see, I've had a thousand such moments
In life - brief seconds of wonder, and
Exhilaration, and heart-stopping beauty,

And each time I have to stop and think of
You, not because they remind me of you,
Or compare to you, or even resemble you

In any way, but purely for the fact that
WITHOUT you, I wouldn't even know what
TRUE beauty was, and every one of these

Extraordinary, exquisite sights and sublime
Moments, would have passed in an instant,
Forever unappreciated. Because of YOU ...

Such beauty DOES exist.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by dennis jones | Details

The Explorer


...and then just as suddenly, constellations appeared in a daytime sky, framed by white pines crawling with multicolored caterpillars.  So from this day forward, they would search the sky for more star pictures. They then would draw pictures of what they saw with a mixture of ash and spit on their fingers on pink leaves that fell to the ground. They would all participate in the gathering of pink leaves, which they stitched together forming blankets to cover their humble homes, and their village had a pink glow.  Their homes were as nests, or more similar to large hammocks, consisting of branches and bark lashed together with vines suspended from the heavy limbs of the tree canopy.  Their homes swayed in a light breeze, creaking as they moved, and were festooned with blue, red, yellow and purple feather plumes, floral chains, sea shells and gemstones; along with the pink leaf blankets they resembled some extraordinary species of giant hanging flora, which attracted a variety of butterflies, and many small rodent-like creatures ran about. There was much activity in the trees above as they would hop from limb to limb, and home to home, visiting with neighbors and conversing through animated head, facial, hand and body gestures, with much whooping, or whistling sounds, their whole person seemed engaged in conversation.  It was a wonderful and amazing sight to behold, I found the scene so engrossing that I immediately wanted to leave all that I've known behind and immerse myself in their uniquely intimate culture.  I felt as though I'd discovered a new home.

Throughout my journeys I had completed several small drawings and paintings of the various sites that I'd seen, and reasoned that this might be a fine way to communicate and introduce myself, as I was sure they would recognize what I had put down on paper.  I set down my pack and retrieved my paper and pencils from within. I settled against a tree and began to sketch the scene before me.  Soon the noise and activity from the trees above grew quiet, and as I looked up the entire village had come out to the tree limbs and watched in silence as I worked on the drawing.  Then, as if on command, they all descended from the trees and surrounded me in an instant. The speed at which they moved in unison startled me, but I soon discovered there was no threat.                    

As they huddled around me, softly whistling to each other, they held open one hand to reveal a wriggling brightly hued caterpillar. Then they each blew a light breath over the creatures, and it melted into a moving, shifting pool of color in the palm of their hands.  They each dragged a finger through the color, and raising their arms, with a colored finger extended; they held it to the sky.  In the next moment they each bent over me, and wiped the color on the drawing that I had begun. To my astonishment the color moved across the page completely on its own. New worlds opened up, revealed to me, as their spectral markings merged together into watery pools, then formed drips, streams, rivers with rapids, waterfalls, and gorges emptying into estuaries, seeking their own path of least resistance as gravity pulled this way and that, and then churning, and bubbling up in clumps, oozing off the surface in a tremendous mountain slide.  I saw the opened shape of a mouth, or a great hole in the earth, which I looked deep into and could feel and see myself looking back, then puckered, shut tight, blending and separating like ever changing oil on water, flares would rise up from below and burn for a time until they subsided; then cracked into an infinite array of minuscule fissures becoming a frozen ocean, solid and immoveable in a kind of death.  As I watched, it seemed as though hours had drifted by, which I soon realized were mere seconds. 

Copyright © dennis jones | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Aliza Kashmala Kiran | Details

Mood Colors

Moods Colors
My moods are most confusing
Viewed from the outside
Borne aloft on potent waves
Of Emotion's tides
I struggle against the current
Surrender all control
Drowning in the waters
As the cold enters my soul
My moods must be confusing
And it must be cruel to see
A soul become a captive
To pain and misery
Sword,
Hilt of a heart.
Dazzling shine.
Stainless steel,
Amulet of the wolf.
Dark marks,
Sharp fangs.
Don't mess with me today...
Your hairs are like a light rain clouds; 
Dwelling in nostalgic, lovely moods;
Debris of a sundown sky’s emotion
Remains in a worship of a devotion ;
Her tears of delight drop, one by one;
A cool shower poured in by someone,
In a dazzling, elegant, alluring surprise,
Graceful, charming, relationships arise!  
The mirrors of a moon’s cheeks
reflects lightly on sweaty peeks;
while I reside, in low mild moods;
Carrying her inside the wild woods. 
Life is ambient colours,
We are shades in the spectrum 
The light bends around us,
We are aura upon life
Brightness,
Transparency,
Illuminated
Are we upon the world, we are
But like a prism, moods can change
From one to another, a less bleak 
Aura can blend with situations 
And once vibrant can 
Diminish
Subside
Uninspired
Life can drag you down,
Became a shadow of our 
Former self,
Our ambient colours of life
Can brighten up others days,
Or drag others down, We have
Auras of colours that
Can be as illuminated as any day,
Or swallow us in the gloom, 
We are easel, a mixture of colours,
Each slightly changing to the moods life plays..

Birth develops into marriage as folk grow.
Wedding rings and precious things.
All trinkets in life's treasure box.
Makes for divorce from a marriage of minds.
Love anew for one or two. 
A second chance, not marriage tho.
Maybe to last until the end of blessed time.
With luck.
As the sky rips apart.
Sprinkled with pastel pink.
Maybe portents of potent storms to come.
Morning moon glazed.
White feather misted cloud covering.
Almost icing sugar dust.
Seems to protect her presence from winters icy blast.
Early morning.
A plane rips a bright slice through the sky.
As she journeys home from temperate climes.
Roofs dusted with the gift of Jack Frost and his magic wand.
The morning changes hue.
The ice slips into melting hearts.
As love shouts loudly till death do us part!
life it as its moods it can change each day
we just never know what it brings our way
what is round the corner what it has in store
will it be like yesterday or the day before.
it is unpredictable we really just cant tell
will it make life nice or just a living hell.
we just never know what its mood will be
what it hold for us we have to wait and see
Life is a special gift
To live it happily
To struggle it strongly
To manage it boldly
Each and every moment a  miracle
Was explained as easily as possible
To see its beauty,Its purity
To suffer,fail,gain at the same stage
A phase to cherish,a path to realize
A way to cry,a wish to dream
A surprise to reveal
A silent tear,a beautiful smile
A long way to go
Tasting failures,success with equal zeal
Its surely a big deal!
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran 

Copyright © Aliza Kashmala Kiran | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Where Poets Rule

Everything that is created
disguises a hidden purpose....
A calligrapher writes out his lines
not just for the exquisiteness of the script
but to also convey a meaning.
              Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)

What is the purpose of poetry,
and therefore of the poet?
Refined prose?
Beautifully flowing style and structure?
Artistic elegance
or truth of content?

Is poetic purpose the meaning of its language
or the art of linguistic choices?

Of course it must be both,
symbiotically fertilizing and farming each incubating embryo,
functioning and forming creative language,
an expression of intuited deduction,
refinement toward exegetically known and felt soul-truth
through eisegetical analogy
ecology
economy of linguistic order,
principles of languaged left-brained human nature
dancing prancing functional flow and forms
through right-brained regeneratively intuited
proportional and aesthetic octave polycultured memory,
dream-dancing DNA.

What evolves and seeds
plants and pulls
harvests and winnows language,
thought,
understanding and learning,
comprehension and mentoring orthopraxis,
ecotherapy and healing
rationality and polypathic sanity?

This optimally sustaining
revolutionary bipolar meaning
for graceful living
and breathing
and healing poetry,
enculturates as metaphysically expressed
through universal laws of language
and cooperative economics,
trans-actively mutual mentoring love,
as words teach us what we think
and thoughts inspire our Way (Tao) 
toward optimally inclusive expression.
Meanwhile poetry evolves physically incarnating
through global dancing and singing
in full octave ringing circles
of energy and organic-spiral dynamic mass,
coincident communion.

Poets conduct dancing lyrics of life through death,
decompositioning regeneration.

Poets prehend self-governance structures
in ways of light more enlightened
than competing partisan pedantry;
which may not be saying much for poets.

Transliterating Laotse on "Rulers":
Of the best public administrators
    The people only have faith,
    prehend, that they exist,
    or did way back in the day;
The next best they love and praise:
    the comprehensively wise polypaths 
    with CQI regenerative well-being outcomes.
The abusive  and tyrannical next they fear;
    powerful fools.
And the neglectful next they revile and ridicule;
    weak and humorless fools.

When poets do not command the people's faith,
Some will lose faith in them,
And then they resort to oaths!
But, of the best,
those wisely compassionate cooperative poetic-rulers,
    when their outcomes are optimally accomplished,
    their full-octaved permacultural design word work done,
The folks all remark, 
    "We have written and told and danced, 
    lived and breathed,
    colored and cultured it ourselves."

It is no more or less feasible
to have a mutually subsidiary 
and cooperative design and development
sociopathic CEO,
than it is to find a wise and holy
competitive hoarder of wealth and power.

Everything that is created
disguises a hidden purpose.

Creation disguises,
yet implies,
teleology as ecologic.




Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Carolyn Fish | Details

A Midsummer Night's Beach

When I was a girl, still on the island
I’d sit in the sand
and brood
and revel
in what I thought was utter enlightenment
a teenage rebel
with dime-store refinement
We were all this way, and there is no shame
In the unchecked mind of us in our prime
The best nights of those
When the sea was calm and
The moon was out and
Blazingly bright, it would light up the night
Set the whole ocean glowing
Like a deep inky opal
Translucent abyss of black
Lightly flecked
With an iridescent waltz of electric blue, neon purple, alien green, and diamond white
It was on these nights
That I’d get in the water

By some stunning feat of abrasive wave action
Or possibly some secret dolphin magic
A tide pool would arise
A lagoon off the shore
Drifting and shifting over the course
Of a week, maybe two
Drifting out, drifting in
Widening out, slimming in
Shallow enough to sit in at dawn
Submerged to my neck at the day’s final yawn
Defiant of the perpetuity of the ocean at large
A toy trench off the shore
Spanning the length of a whale
Sometimes less, sometimes more
My own nascent Marianas
Never failed to provide
An off-shore haven where I could reside
These transient channels, clear and serene
Cut off from the rest of the sea
By a vast steppe of water, ankle deep
Separating me in my watery kingdom
Where no monstrous creature of the deep could reach
Out and out that plain stretched
(Only once did I test it)
Till that clean sandy bottom would begin its descent
Slowly at first, then quickly it went
Down to the unknown dark

Into a child queen of a tiny sea world, I’d transform
Springing up from the bottom of pulverized quartz
To shatter the surface between the water and the night
Send millions upon millions of droplets of brine
Glittering and spinning off into the night
I’d leap out my trench, onto that shallow plain
Sprint out to the edge of my earth and breathlessly gaze
out over the hidden deep
Reminded I’m only a guest
The ocean is neither mine nor yours to keep
Having drunk my fill of humility
I’d spin round
Fly back
Dive back down
Into my fleeting empire, my sea of tranquility
My throne resumed, I’d splash and play
With the smile of the summer Milky Way
Shooting out of the ocean, slicing the southern sky
The universe itself keeping a loving and watchful eye
As the earth showed me exactly who she was
No pretense
I’d dig my fingers into the satiny sand
And feel its realness
Every cell of my skin feeling the water rush across
As I coasted, submerged, along the bottom and lost
Myself from the rest of mankind
Then I’d rest my head back on that broad sandy mesa
Gaze up at my friends Scorpius, Aquarius, and Cassieopiea
Small ripples of water lapping at my temples

Barring defense of Descartes’ deceiving God
Not a thing in all the world could ever make me doubt
That every sensation that I felt
in those days
Was a whisper from the cosmos telling me about
The ways to be and
The ways to see and
All the states of mind that reveal
What is good, and true, and right, and real

Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Frederic Parker | Details

Describing Change

The black moving night,a covering shawl
Circles the world before the golden dawn
While we underneath are always in awe,
of the changes in light we look upon
Beautiful colors appear from this change
And enter the eye of the artist's mind
As pages are filled, decriptions exchange
Poets write colored pictures to remind
The reds and blues depict from flowing quills
Give color to words across the pages
And though artist words will never fulfill
The colorful skies seen through the ages

Bow to the artist who paints the red sky
And for the poet's words , used to reply


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Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

FullColor Revolutions

We might
we must
we mightily engage color's radical invitation
toward democracy,
in which black camouflages equal opportunity,
creolizes equivalent enculturations
of diversity's tones and hues
and historic chilling cries.

We could thereby release
this collective stranglehold on white
as might
and right
or fight
absence of color's ecological transparency,
vulnerability becoming
whichever rhythms and patterns
and designs embraced by history's plutocracies,
aristocracies of inherited reasons
and power over multiculturing regard
for more nuanced beauty
as shading good and graduating vital
dense and high and deep and rich
refracting black's full unweaving potential
in wheels
and spirals,
octaves of transmorphing
resounding form
with fertile major and minor functions;
prime polynomials
and sublime notnot fully stretching spiral binomials.

Earth is no more
as simple as white over black
emerging from dualdark
before color-fractal light
than merely patriarchal competitions
or matriarchal cooperations;
color speaks and thinks,
resonates and resolves and reweaves
more richly promising
than polarizing extremes,
neither black nor white
possible
or probable
much less primary
without triaged enlightenment
inducting from within,
deducting with without,
hypostatic co-arisings
of sacred-secular
heavenly Light bespeaking Earth nutrition's humus
humming
singing
ringing left as ultra
with right as violet,
black dipolar light
less bright,
spilling shades of grey
to red and blue
yellow green
in-between
just right spacetime
ego-eco balancing
identities dipolar
inducting from embryonic matriarchs
deducing with wisdom's wealth of reasons
for and of
within and yet beyond
regenerating dipolar seasons
revolving revolutions,
time's color passing
passioning promise,
integrity of speciating spectral
hue and cry
time and pitch
resonant polypathic
polyphonic
polyculturing outcomes
polynomial Earth resolving
harmonics.

We are so statically
and strategically stuck
between exegetical polarities of black on white
and transparency of white supremacy 
over black opaque mysteriously unexplored
unappreciated
under-valued rich density,
matriarchs riding co-passioning patriarchs
and patriarchs overpowering matriarchs,
we miss robust complexity
midway between
where all our best and brightest
ecopolitical opportunity
awaits
our reawakening
full-color claims of freedom
strains of rights
blends of fearless liberty
gathering redolent resonance.

Each of us,
regardless of our position on Earth today
has emerged continuously from cooperative matriarchal embryonics
back through time,
across diversity of organic species,
on back to synergetically regenerate organisms
singing
ringing back as forth,
our polyphonic full-fractal spectrum between
within
beyond grey-scale lines
of black Yang fully interdependent
loving white Yin empty
potential
polypathic promise.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by anne p. murray | Details

Botticelli Dreams of Sweet Purple Calicoo - And You

Your image appears through a purple-hued haze of silence… 
weaving its whispered dreamy spell, while you re-connect the strings of my sleeping heart
You go about undressing my soul as I watch your image drift in my celibate reality
I hear the melody play it lonely tune ~ but, it is absent of the warmth of touch
For its only your image I see, my heart's held hostage by the cry of the songbird 

My unknown lover, kidnapped by the makers of dreams and fantasies 
experiencing the uncertainty of the child that lies sleeping deep within 
Alone, with the clever artists of dreams and visions encountering the forever of my loneliness 
brushing off the blurred images with softly painted hues of repeated memories 
designed by the masters of dreams and schemes, sleeping to be hugged ~ dreaming to be loved

Oh yes... I've dealt with kings, queens and dragonflies
in the dancing reverie of the fragments of my reality, 
gliding in and out of the dust of Heaven's stars
sprinkling me with their sweet purple dreams gliding over shimmering evening skies 

In lavender scented breezes, I make my way through the night's crimson threshold
in starlit dreams that melt across ancient seasons
shimmering purple shades of shadows painted in serene,  pastoral Botticelli scenes

I sleep in soft billowy clouds, spreading my wings in God's peaceful heavens
my journey - painted in purple pastel colors of love...
peering through misty clouds and diamond stars by His Divine presence from up above 

They make their nightly visits into my fantasies, my thoughts
 painted by the makers and weavers of dreams, coming out of their secret, hidden places...
they silently reveal their amethyst, painted masterpieces 
lightly kissed in dewy, lavender scented bliss
My Botticelli dreams...softly swaddled in dream woven swathes of purple calico...
and you

The sweetness of long remembered thoughts tickles my memories in delicate ambrosial perfume...
redolent of lilac scented blossoms- each flower's fragrant sphere, lingering sweetly in the air
Ancestral shades drift in and out of what was... what might still be
singing their lavender effulgent melodies in lovely violet shades 
through soft, flowing wisps of dreams, lingering in meadows of glowing moonlight...
and you 

Your sweet scent, so succulent in lilac memories urging your return
they delicately float across my dreaming heart waiting so patiently for your sweet scented whispers
to wrap seductive chiffon fingers around my sleeping soul on Morpheus' silky crimson screens
across the evening's deep indigo blue horizon 

Between the cracks of earth and sky I succumb with on soaring wings toward your biding arms
catching falling stars in the mist of twilight whispers, where scarlet lilacs are sprinkled...
dreaming together of the end of our days
until your sweet love finds me neath’ the evening's indigo, starry art
painted in Botticelli dreams of purple calico...the delicate lavender wings of dragonflies ...
and you

Copyright © anne p. murray | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Restoring Sacred Grace

Redistributing Natural Karma

Therapeutic economies of multicultural grace
regeneratively push through
Punitive politics of retribution for monoculturing sin,
degenerative harm,
pathology,
victimizing fellow Earth residents
of grace
and positive Earth karma.

In Genesis
we can discern three distinct,
though overlapping, oral traditions.

In at least one of these,
Eden has a Tree of Life and Death,
which human nature is invited to share
with all Creator God's sacred creations.

But,
we also find a forbidden Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil,
Grace and Punishment,
therapeutic restoration and divinely-inspired retribution.

From this second tree,
Yang with Yin
absorbed Yang v Yin;
our Great Transition Fall
from Infinite Paradise
as Eden,
a place of and for unmitigated Grace,
yet within finite extinguishing global Space.

Since then greedy monoculturing weeds
suck up far more than their democratic fair share
of baptismal waters for healing,
intended for polyculturally balancing egosystems
living within harmonic climate ecosystems.

In human nature's sacred-right and secular-left
bi-hemispheric eyes,
we find Red distinguishing cones.
And also, appositional Blue contrasting cones.
And,
between these two prime relational ways of seeing
evolving root restorative systems
and color wheels
are newer wu-wei cones,
balancing purple with appositional yellow.

Imagine this regenerative diversity full spectral,
from Red Thymine
through Blue Cytosine
toward Purple Adenine
with Yellow Guanine,
full spiral emerging LifeTree-Strings
and extinguishing finite Death's nondual dark shadows;

A double-binding Tree
emerging from polyculturing Good
sacredly evolving through five past monoculturing extinctions
of Evil.

Live secular-red
with Evil sacred-blue, dualdark, double-binding sensory-neural equivalence,
Yang with Yin
aware of our SunGod and Sacred EarthMother
bicamerally unraveling through overshot competitive leadership
toward this sixth Great Transitional Extinction,
while all other creatures
continue seeing only in black-extinction
and white-emergent radiance,
grey-blues,
and sometimes super-emergent Red,
blood Red wombs,
horizontal dawns and dusks of life and death
engorged with healthy oxygen
then Blue restoring flow
back toward hearts and bilateral minds
of Live and Evil body WinWin Trees
and forests
and communities
and nation-states
and nature-spirit color circle cultures,
Great Transitional EnCulturations,

Aware of restorative good sacred potential
and retributive evil secularizing potential
of monocultural anthro-centrism,
ego-centric hubris,
Business As Usual
of ego/eco bicameral imbalance,
Yang v Yin,
Win v Lose,
Live v Evil,

ReStorative Multiculturing Therapy 
against continuing
ReTributive Punishment 
of co-victimized SuppressedYin Holonic Fractal
ReStorations
ReVolutions
2020 ReVisionary EcoPolitical Balance.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Transgendering Trumpisms

Trump started it,
with his arguments against transgender people
in the military violence business
of nationalism.

He seems to think trans-thinking
could not be sufficiently focused,
disciplined,
willing to accept ego-sacrifices
as necessary for successful long-term peaceful outcomes.

While this does seem to be an issue,
this lack of focus and self-discipline,
for some in the long-term healthy peace achievement business,
anyone who is transgender
and yet willing to gamble on thriving in a military culture
is not likely to suffer in those ways,
unlike lack of congressional climates for health care outcomes,
and far removed from a Trumpian,
late-decadent Victorian,
All Supremacist WhiteHouse.

It is ever so much easier
to retain a stiff upper lip,
and shut your over-twitterish hatefilled mouth,
when thou art Queen Bee of the Hill,
than when one of the many transgender soldier bees,
defending your right to lay really tragic
not-funny eggs
in full view of a not skeptical enough
Republic.

Perhaps we would all be better off
if we only nominated for President
people who had successful experience not only as Governors
or Senators
or even Vice Presidents,
but also some successful transgender experience.

For to become Trans
is a lifespan progress.
Not only unity of focus
and discipline of bilateral selves,
but also an intuitive feel for balance
between the virulent egocentric
and the viable possibilities for cooperative eco-centric diversity,
and a sense of appropriate
and inappropriate
use of color.

Color,
not only variations on yellow
with red
with blue,
not only black and brown 
with diverse hues and textures of white and pink flesh,
but also colorful language
pattern and rhythmic texture,
tone,
ranging scales of operatic drama
but also peaceful romantic moonlit nights
here in this focused,
balancing,
colorful spacetime place
transgender celebrates
as a peaceful,
yet fertile,
diversely promising womb of Earth.

Perhaps we could also improve leadership
for all Earth's health care giving
and receiving,
by closing the Senate
to straight white males
of any age.
We employ far too many of those
in the incompetent House of NonRepresentatives
to achieve successful unity,
balance,
and color.

Bullies focus on their monoculturing intents
and violent purposes, as necessary,
as self-justified,
so are not known for skill sets
involving polyculturally balancing 
ecopolitically healthy outcomes,
much less any Commons sense
of polyphonic color,
much less any politically liberating sense of humor.

For this full design package,
we could more successfully turn
to society's transgender victims,
soldiering on with and without us
if we could just keep up
with their divinely inspiring
senses of and for balancing peaceful
yet radiant
colors of integrity,
both inside
and out.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long Poems